Instincts: Part I
by blacksparklyfaery
Summary: This is set roughly four years after the events of the Jumper film, and follows Griffin as the war between paladins and jumpers gets worse. Anna is mine, but Griffin and the Jumper concept belongs to Stephen Gould.


INSTINCTS INSTINCTS Part I

I come to my senses hunched up inside a glass box. It's roughly four foot along each side, the edges are steel, the sides made from glass with a wire mesh imbedded in them. The top panel, which is also made of steel, has row upon row of small holes through it. The bottom is concrete, overlaid with a thick wire grid – which is bloody uncomfortable to sit on – and another small hole in the middle. There are no lights, inside or out. It sits in the middle of nowhere, a glass prison inside a black hole.

My first instinct is to jump the hell out of there.

No dice.

The electricity shocks through my body, causing me to jerk my head back and crack it on the glass. This hurts far more than it has any right to, and it is now that I remember the blow that knocked me senseless and got me into this mess to begin with.

"Fuck!"

Experience has taught me that it isn't worth trying again. If it works the first time, it will continue working. Paladins aren't stupid. _Unlike me_, I think angrily; gingerly exploring the tender spot at the base of my skull and wincing at the pressure. My skin tingles from the residual electricity and my nerves are jumping. I can taste blood in my mouth; I must have fallen at some point, the inside of my lip is bleeding. _This_, I think, pushing out with my feet and only coming against more glass in every direction, _this is new. This is bad. _

It's as this thought is running through my mind that I notice the water trickling up through the hole in the concrete. At first it is merely uncomfortable, a chill that soaks through my clothes and numbs my skin. It creeps higher and higher, and the chill is not only coming from the water, now, it's deep inside me. I haven't been afraid of the paladins for a long time, not _properly_ afraid. I've been one step ahead for so long that even when they find my lairs I'm simply angry, furious (usually at myself), but not afraid. By now the water has reached my armpit, from where I'm curled up, feet and shoulders pressed against the glass.

"Hey!"

A resounding silence. Even the rising water is deathly quiet. I kick out at the glass walls again, to no avail.

"Hey!" I shout, as the water touches my chin. "Lemme the fuck outta here!"

I know it's useless, know that wherever they are, they're lurking in the shadows and watching. I don't know why I'm still alive, but I know it can't be for long. As the water continues rising, I find myself tilting my head until my cheek is pressed to the glass ceiling, breathing from that final scrap of air that's left. As I feel the water touching my nostrils, I breathe deeply.

And then I have no air. At first I sit still, staring into the watery darkness. Then the panic wells up inside. _Must breathe_! I fight down the rising terror for only so long before it becomes too much. I scream, underwater, kick out frantically, breathe in on instinct but I'm only trying to breathe water. My throat closes, my lungs burn, and then...

_Jump_.

The Empty Quarter. Sun blazing down onto the desert. Dry sand beneath my hands, grit under my fingernails. Water streams off my clothes and hair, puddles underneath me and then soaks away. I cough, bring up water, spit it weakly onto the dark sand. There's blood in the water, a faint pinkish tinge, running from the back of my head and from the side of my mouth.

Slowly, I sit up and looks around. The sun is high in the sky, it must be close to midday here.

"Fuck," I whisper, then the act of speaking makes me cough up more water. Once the coughing fit has passed, I get to my feet. Time to go. I jump…then there's a wrench that goes through my entire body, like electricity but worse, I gasp, and…

…back in the cube. Back in the water.

What little air I took in before I was pulled back is forced out of my lungs as I appears in the cube. The excess water is pushed out of the holes in the top panel, streams silently down the outside of my prison. I fight against instinct for a couple of seconds before I try to breathe in again. Only water, my throat contracts again. Silently screaming for oxygen.

_Jump._

Sam and Consuelo's house. I land in a heap on dirty linoleum in the kitchen, gasping in the dry, dusty air. Water trickles out of my mouth as I lie on the floor, staring blankly at the empty cupboards. There's a hole in the ceiling in the corner of the room, where the upstairs floor has given way. The tiles underneath are cracked and half of them are in pieces on the floor. Rain has soaked down and the whole corner has a faint, greenish cast to it. The house must have been empty since they died, the long-distant cousin unable to sell a property with such a violent history.

With a shudder, I realise I'm lying where I last saw Consuelo. I drag myself up onto hands and knees, cough up more water, then stand and takes a step towards the door. As I reach the doorway, I have time to notice the way my skin tingles before I'm dragged back into the black again.

Breathing water in the darkness. The pain is extraordinary, beyond anything I have experienced before, even at the hands of Roland. Even the knife in the kidney was a walk in the park compared to this. As I begin to lose consciousness, I'm aware of my body doing the only instinctive thing it can.

_Jump._

The wooden floor of the dojo in Knightsbridge. I'm vaguely aware of a faint scream; shouts in the distance. The floor vibrates with running footsteps, there's a hand on my shoulder, a deep voice says something I can't comprehend. I flinch away, try to stand up and run, but my chest feels as if it's on fire and all I can do is cough up water again. I black out, then, for a moment.

When I comes to, I'm still lying on the floor. Someone has put me into the recovery position, and there's something lying over me. A coat. My breath comes easier now, although it still feels like inhaling razor blades.

"Griffin O'Connor?"

"Yeah," I manage to whisper.

"The ambulance is on its way. You're in safe hands here," the disembodied voice continues. Then its owner comes into my field of vision. Sensei Patel is crouched down beside me, looking worried and scared.

I lie on the floor, aware of the crowd of small boys peering around the doorway. My body is shaking, there's nothing I can do to stop it, and my head is pounding. The pain from the wound at the back of my skull is beyond belief, jagged knife spikes of agony with every movement. I try not to move, but that only intensifies the shakes.

I'm dimly aware of the sound of sirens wailing, then what feels like moments later I'm being lifted up onto a stretcher. Strangers in green paramedic uniforms seem to be everywhere, talking to me. As I'm carried towards the door, I begin to feel the pull again.

"No…" I mutter, trying to twist away from it.

"It's okay, Griffin," one of the paramedics begins to say, but then I'm gone.

Back to black again.

When I opens my eyes, I'm still in the cube, but the water has drained away. A bright light is shining from somewhere. I'm lying on the concrete, shivering. Movement outside the glass walls makes me start, and I focus on the figure that's walking towards me.

"Well, well. The infamous Griffin O'Connor," the man says. He's tall and fair, and he would have been thin ten years ago, but middle age has brought on a bit of a paunch. He carries it well, though, and it's mostly hidden by the long, dark coat that he's wearing. He's smiling and looking exceedingly pleased with himself.

I say nothing. _Let me out of here and then we'll see how long it takes to wipe that smug look off your face, fucker._

The man crouches down beside the cube. "How do you like your hotel room, Griffin?"

"The facilities are lacking a bit," I reply, clenching my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering. "I think I'll complain to the tourist board – don't suppose you've got their phone number on you?"

"Smartarse." The paladin stares at me. "Do you know the most fascinating thing about jumpers, Griffin O'Connor?"

"Enlighten me, Obi-Wan." Bitter hatred in every sarcastic word.

"The most fascinating thing is that even as they're dying, their body still tries to escape. They still jump. And they can keep it up, dying, for…oh…a good two or three days at the most, given an hour or so here and there to recover. So you bear that in mind. You've been here for two hours so far. You've got a long way to go."

The man stands up and walks out of the room, shutting the door behind him. As the door shuts, the light switches off, and I am plunged back into darkness, in my glass prison. The waters begin to rise again.


End file.
